Norwell High School - Shipbuilder Yearbook (Norwell, MA)

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Through the Ukraine On a Zebra 1 I was ad iring the scenery while riding my trusty zebra slowly through the Ukranian countryside. I had come to Ukrane on my zebra to gather in- formation for my forthcoming book, WThe Mental Behavior of Adolescent Mountain Mules. Finally, I arrived at the booming metropolis of Shtotigooverish, Shtotigooverish is on Route 56, northeast of its twin city, Dnepropetrosk. I decided to rest awhile and eat my lunch of con- ,-1 demned beef sandwiches and pigeon milk. L, 'I While in Shtotigooverish, I met an old friend, Hooray Butilkavitch. gig? Hooray is a retired basketball player and is worshipped by all Ukranian f basketball fans. In fact, his name is still shouted at all games. When- 5 ever a team makes a basket the crowd stands up and yells, nHooray1 Hoorayl' . I also met Hooray's half-brother who is a bit soft in the head. He jj thought he was a tank of gasoline and he behaved like a fuel. I bade farewell to Hooray and his half-brother and rode my zebra down the main street of town. It just so happened that the secret police had imprisoned a diplomat Llwos from Czechoslovakia on the fourth floor of the Ukranian People's Savings Bank of Shtotigooverish. As I was riding past the bank, the unfortunate Czech was committing suicide by leaping from a window on the fourth floor of the bank building. It was the first time in the entire history of the bank that the employees had seen a Czech bounce. Then it happened! The secret police became suspicious of the research I was doing. Unknown to me all Ukranian mountain mules had been executed on grounds of being deviationists and anti-Soviets. My zebra and I had to leave the country in the greatest haste. We fled to the Sahara Desert where I eked out a living, by selling peanut butter sandwiches to wandering nomads. It was in the Sahara that I got the idea of manufacturing camel's milk popsicles for export to the Himalayas . . ah, but that's another story. A PRAYER James Brown,-H55 LIFE God, please help me to live a better life, To keep smiling through days of Life is a book in volumes three- The past, the present, and the yet-to-be. strife, To Conquggogad and live in the The first we've finished and laid awayg To forgiggogigers HS I know I The second we're reading day by day: I To be able to lift my head and The third and last of these volumes three say, 'I've lived this day in God's own way.' Althea Campbelld' Have Have Have Have Fell Can' Can' A pi Roll That you you you you SVSP SVS? SVSP GVBP SBSH SBSH SSSD SSSD Is locked from sight---God keepth the key. John Henderson-H55 53 THE AMERICAN WAY a soldier lying in Korean mud? a soldier a soldier a soldier who needs a pint of blood? whose face is white and drawn? who won't live till dawn? ow human beings, I appeal to you: t you roll up your sleeves--as other people do? t you spare a pint of blood to save a soldier's life? nt of blood--to stop this awful strife? up your sleeves and give today, , my friends, is--The American way. Joan Doug1asvv55 lk

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The Mother She waited in the dimly lighted room for the ring of the telephone. It had been hours of waiting, anticipating the news. Hwhat had happened?' She walked to the coffee table at the far end of the room, picked up a cigarette, and lighted it. Relaxation at this point was next to impossible, she couldn't determine from the various telegrams whether Paul, her son, had been given a leave, or whether he had been wounded. She had been so brave when he had told her of his enlistment, but this incessant waiting was worse than that and even more unbearable than the day he had left for Korea. She crossed the room again, and slumped down on the sofa. The minutes ticked slowly on, and on, and on......... The telephone was screaming a thousand miles away in the deserted room, She couldn't grasp the meaning of the insistent ringing. Coming suddenly to life, she bounded to the telephone and nervously grasped the receiver. whispered in a trembling voice. For an eternity the lines then she heard the strong voice of her own son, speaking across heartache. nHello,N she crackled and the miles of nHello, four hours. Mom, I'm home. I'm down at Grand Central and I'll see you in How's everybody?n She answered--she knew not what and reluctantly hung up. Then the hot pent-up tears came and the only words that were of any importance in the whole world were nHello, Mom, I'm homeln Judith Adams HSM NO MORE WORKING No more pouring over homework on a lovely night, No more rising at the dawn's first lightg No more worrying about the ink in my pen, No nwre studying for a test again. No more saying, nD1d I flunk or not?n No more thinking when the weather's hot, No more working in school all day ---- Not till September anyway. O, thou which hold'st the quenching Marjorie Brown H53 TO A WINE GLASS drink, Thou clear and crystal cup, My taste inclineth me to think, Thou'st the host with which to sup. Thy tongue is never rude nor dumb, Thy manners never bold, And if, perchance, I spill a crumb, I know thou'll never scold. And if, like some, I should indulge, In thought disturbing surplus, The liquid drink with which thou bulge- Thou dost but serve thy purpose. Ann Wilson HSA 13

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The Legend of the Man-eating Plant While working as a photographer for an exploring agency, I was assigned to go to we worked our way a month of travel Lake Victoria, we undergrowth I had the Land of the Man-eating Plants. Starting at Brava of Italian East Africa. After Territory. As we moved toward of the thickest and darkest tedious and we made little time. across the rugged terrain we reached the Tanganyika pushed south through some ever seen. Traveling was When we finally reached the Ujiji Territory, we were greeted by Chief Elk Head. He offered carriers to help us move more swiftly to the Belgian Congo. He said that his carriers would guide us within five miles of our destination. We were glad to accept his offer and immediately proceeded on our journey. We crossed the Yahu River in dugout canoesg but the current has strong, so we ended our portage three miles below our proposed point. At dawn on the ninety-first day of travel we were only five miles from the mysterious land. As Chief Elk Head had predicted, the superstitious natives left us at this point and returned to the camp in the midst of the Belgian Congo to await OLII' return. After assistant, of the man-eating preparing the morning meal, Baboa, my guide, and Happy my went scouting. When they did not return at a set time, a legend plants began to bother my thoughts. The legend, as told by the chief, is simply that anyone who enters this land will never leave. I readied my photography paraphernalia, and still there was no sign of my companions. Finally, I went looking for my friends. I paused now and then to call but received no answer. Soon I came to a stretch of soft ground where I found tracks. I followed these impressions until I came to a dense system of jungle vines. Breaking through, I saw bush plants growing here and there. Moving swiftly toward the larger plants, I saw what was left of my friends. Their bodies were three-quarters eaten by these perfidious vines. As I turned to leave, I felt something grab my foot. Looking down, I saw long tentacles of the vile green plant winding itself around my foot. The harder I labored the tighter this monstrosity squeezed. It was useless to struggle. Already the juice from the plant was working at my bootsg I knew I did not have much time. I emptied the shells from my gun. with my teeth I removed the powder from the shells and cram ed it into a tube. After compressing the powder, I used a thread from my shoelace for fuse, A8 I placed the explosive near the root of the plant, I was conscious that the deadly acid was seeping through my boot. In seconds I felt the plant begin to sting and burn my foot. Fortunately, my device was sure: the explosive went off, and I was released. Somehow I managed to get back to the camp. Bill Hegener H55 My Car The block is cracked, The gas line leaks, Hasn't had a The tires are fine, but air seeps through. change of oil in weeks. I almost forgot--the springs are shot too. rift! The hood is bent, The top's caved in, Fl j lg Rain pours down where a w1ndow's been. XX -Y A fender's gone, but I don't care-- - The muffler sounds like a grizzly bear. The clutch it slips The brakes won't hold, W Upholstery's covered with layers of mold. But why should I fret and tear my hair? llwlilm I ain't plannin' on goin' nowhere. yw 'f' H I BS 1 ian? If Richard Long 55 gnml 15 1' 1